It was awkward and a contributing factor to the end of our friendship. That night had made up my mind for me. I was only into girls. And I did not entertain any such thoughts for over 10 years. The point is that I really had no sense of technique as I slurped on this monster.
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I wanted to please though. I wanted to be good. I wanted to put all of my porn observations to task and suck this stranger into oblivion. Besides, if I was only going to suck one cock in my life, it had better be a good one. As I bathed him with my mouth, I moved my fingers around him, adding light-fisted jerk to my stroke.
This provoked an intense reaction, and as he became even more hard, his cock began to arc skyward, and the ridge of his flesh became more pronounced. It was amazing.
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I had this strange toy to play with. It was all mine, and though I fumbled in my inexperience, I had command over it. Spitting into my hand, I wrapped my fist around the head of his dick and gave him several stiff thrusts, from the glands down to the base.
And then I took him into my mouth once more, and I as did I suck him hard, sucked the head of his dick with hicky-giving intensity. Suddenly he withdrew. I was stunned. What happened? Did he want more? Did he want to come in and join me? Did he want to suck me now?
My plans were to meet a fuck-buddy so she and I could experiment anal sex
I peeked in the hole. I saw his legs shaking as he jerked himself. I poked my finger into the hole to get his attention. Did I do something wrong? Maybe my teeth scraped him?
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Was I sucking to hard. Then I heard his cell phone ring, and with Oscar-worthy calm, he answered.
With perfect ease he talked about the ice and the roads as he pulled up his pants and disappeared from my view. Leaving me alone. And uncertain. Well, I was certain of one thing though. And that needed to be taken care of. I took a moment for myself, but my mind was elsewhere. What had I just done? What did it mean? Finishing quickly, I too zipped up and turned to face the door. This is what George Michael got arrested for. And would he be out there? Would he be waiting for me? Wanting more? Gluing my eyes to the floor, I shoulder the door open, and trudged straight for the exit, hands in my pockets.
My keys were in my hand, and I was ready to make my escape, when I heard a voice behind me. Goddamn it. I turned, and there was a man behind be, coming my way from the store. He looked to be in his late 30s.
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Not a bad looking guy. Blue collar. Seemed as straight and normal as any guy who works with his hands. Probably a mechanic. So this was him. I was finally face-to-face with the man I had just been face-to-cock with. I have to get home. I just really need to get off. Not for someone asking for sex. He wanted me like a panhandler wants your spare change. He needed me like a junkie needed a fix. No woman approaches a man for sex like that — love maybe, but not sex. But in that moment I realized that every man approaches a woman for sex with just that desperation. We need it.
And you have it. We love women for their company. We admire women for their beauty. But when it comes to sex, it has very little to do with you, with who you are or how you look, and has a whole lot more to do with this unholy craving that drives us ceaselessly. And when we lie, spent and thankful in your arms, it is because you have given us release from the drive. It is a way that they satisfy a craving, and that craving feels alien to them, to their lives. So, I stood there as a grown man begged me to watch him jerk off.
I know what that need is, how it burns. How many times have I ached for a helping hand too? Besides, he just wants me to watch. No problem. Of course, we looked entirely conspicuous returning together.
I had clearly made my exit, and there I was popping in right behind him. He entered the back through the door on the left. I entered on the right. We met in the hallway and he asked where next? It was strange to be in control of this encounter. So, I had him sit in from of the screen with the door open so I could see.
I stood with my coat on and my hands in my pockets as he pushed a couple coins in the wall and lowered his pants and underwear. I wanted him to choose a movie with a girl in it. That would maybe turn me on a bit and ease my transition into this next level of kink. No such luck. He chose a movie that showed a young, blonde man alone in his bedroom.
And I had come this far. A hand is not so intimate as a mouth. So I reached down and took hold of him. He was not quite so hard, not quite so large, but I was guessing the phone had interrupted him, and nothing kills an erection like almost getting caught. So I gave him a couple dry strokes, and then spit in my hand for lube. He liked that. My stroke paused. It was different. This guy was entirely new. How did he know? Did the other one tell him? After living what I had thought of as being a normal, if open-minded heterosexual life for 28 years, in one night I tripled my number of adult gay partners counting that night when I was Soon, he took my hand from him, and replaced it with his own.
A couple of stiff jerks, and he drooled out a thick, white stream of cum onto the floor. And for a moment, the part of my mind that has been a student of porn wondered if I should reach out to him, take a fingerfull of his jizz and bring it to my mouth like a good little cocksucker. Just to give him a little thrill.